


batter up

by itsahockeyplay



Series: the sounds of life [2]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Domestic Fluff, M/M, with teeny tiny hints of insecurity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-15
Updated: 2018-05-15
Packaged: 2019-05-07 04:31:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14663343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsahockeyplay/pseuds/itsahockeyplay
Summary: Sid scrolls down to the bottom of the recipe. A commenter named “Lynne” has left the following review:Wow! Absolutely amazing, they were a total hit with the family. Will definitely be making again. The batter was the perfect consistency and this was the first time there were no lumps! Perfect recipe. Thanks for sharing. :-)Sid scowls, irrationally annoyed at “Lynne” and her perfect pancakes and her perfect batter and her no lumps. Why does Lynne deserve perfect pancake batter?





	batter up

**Author's Note:**

  * For [eafay70](https://archiveofourown.org/users/eafay70/gifts).



> soooo technically wrote this in the same verse as another one of my fics, but this works perfectly well as a stand-alone, too. i'll edit in the other fic this is referencing after author reveals. 
> 
> unbeta'd (and it shows, y'all; sorry my mystery recipient :(( ) and there is very little point to this fic except "i wanna see sid fail at pancakes."

The batter is lumpy and watery, and he doesn’t understand _why_. He’s already _practiced_ making pancakes — he’s the first to admit his cooking skills are inversely proportional to his hockey skills, so there was no way he was leaving this to chance — and they’d turned out wonderful. _Twice_. Which is why the disastrous mixture sitting in the measuring cup is even more surprising, because it’s _worked_ before.

Sid scrolls down to the bottom of the recipe. A commenter named “Lynne” has left the following review: _Wow! Absolutely amazing, they were a total hit with the family. Will definitely be making again. The batter was the perfect consistency and this was the first time_ _there were_ _no lumps! Perfect recipe. Thanks for sharing. :-)_

Sid scowls, irrationally annoyed at “Lynne” and her perfect pancakes and her perfect batter and her no lumps. Why does Lynne deserve perfect pancake batter?

It’s stupid, but so is the shitty fucking batter sitting on the counter top, so it evens out.

He’s so busy being annoyed, he forgets that he’s got strawberries on the stove. When he remembers, he drops the tablet onto the counter, cursing as he whirls around and sprints to the stove top. “Please, please, please,” he chants under his breath, and when he gets there, he groans aloud — it isn’t all burnt, but the bottom’s sticking to the saucepan. He quickly takes it off the fire and sets it aside, sighing aloud as he stares up at the ceiling.

He should’ve just gotten Geno a fucking Egg McMuffin or something.

Nika babbles something and Sid looks over at him. He’s trying to communicate something very seriously, a wooden spoon in one hand and a circle of pots and pans around him, two of them overturned. Anytime either of them are in the kitchen, Nika likes to contribute by dragging pots and pans and spoons onto the floor and join in.

“You could probably do a better job than this,” Sid says, smiling at little at the way Nika’s gone back to intensely stirring air, clanging around the metal.

Sid would be worried Geno would wake up because of the noise, but Geno can basically sleep through anything.

Sid lets out a long breath. “Okay. Game plan.” The strawberry topping is still salvageable, and maybe adding more flower to the batter might work? It’s worth a try, at least. Geno shouldn’t be awake for another hour, at least, so even if the batter’s a total loss, Sid could always start over. Geno never wakes up this early; he’s got time.

Sid should learn by now to never tempt fate, because he’s only about halfway through scooping out the unburnt bits of the strawberries when Nika shrieks loudly, laughing, and Sid turns to find Geno scooping him up in the air, blowing raspberries onto his stomach and saying what is no doubt a litany of sappy endearments in Russian.

“Oh, _fuck_ ,” Sid says, and that catches Geno’s attention.

“Shouldn’t curse, Sid, bad example,” he says, setting Nika down. He’s still sleep-rumpled, looks how a warm blanket on a winter day feels, hair a mess, and his eyebrows go up as he takes in the state of the kitchen.

Which is, unfortunately, a mess. Sid had started very well — cleaning as he was working, not making much of a mess. But then he’d accidentally used baking soda instead of baking powder, had to throw out the dry ingredients and start over, and things had just gone downhill from there.

Geno grins slowly. “What this?”

“Nothing,” Sid grumbles, crossing his arms. “Why are you awake?”

“Why you trying to cook?”

Sid’s frown deepens. Geno always says Sid’s pouting, but Sid doesn’t pout. “Because I love cooking. And I’m great at it. Obviously.”

Geno’s attempting to tamp down the smile, but it really isn’t working. “Yes, of course. You discover love and talent for cooking today?” he asks, ambling closer to Sid.

Sid chooses not to answer the question. “Why are you awake? You’re never awake.”

“Wake up, you not there,” Geno says, and he stops right in front of Sid. There’s laughter in his eyes. “Miss you, лучик.”

“You missed me,” Sid says, unimpressed. “Right.” He’s given up on asking Geno what the pet names mean because Geno refuses to tell, and Sid’s sure they’re embarrassing enough he doesn’t dare ask someone else, like Gonch.

A part of him likes it. Likes it a little too much, and that’s something he will never admit aloud, not even to himself.

“Sid,” Geno says, and he sounds so fond. “What you doing?”

Sid sighs, letting his arms fall to his side. “I was trying to make breakfast.” He waves around him. “Obviously, it didn’t turn out as planned.”

Geno pulls him in by the hips. “Why try to make breakfast?” he asks, and the smile indicates he knows _exactly_ why Sid was trying to make breakfast.

“Because it’s your birthday, and you love pancakes, and I wanted to do something nice,” Sid says, sighing again. “It didn’t work. The batter’s lumpy and watery, the strawberries are burned, and I don’t even have the tea ready yet.”

Geno leans down to kiss him, soft and slow. “Lumpy, watery battery my favorite,” he says when he pulls back. “Burn strawberries taste best. Can make tea.” He kisses Sid again. “Thank you, пряничек.”

“I didn’t even _do_ anything.”

“What is phrase — thought that count?”

“You can’t eat thoughts.”

Geno’s smile turns into a leer as he pulls Sid closer, dragging his hand down Sid’s back to grope at Sid’s ass. “Then eat something else.”

Sid snorts. “First of all — that’s horrible and you should be ashamed. Second — what makes you think Nika’s gonna let that happen?”

Geno lets out a dramatic groan, dropping his head so his forehead _thunks_ against Sid’s shoulder. “Tell him today my birthday.”

“Yeah, that’ll work. Because Nika’s so great at listening.” Sid pauses. “He definitely gets that from you, by the way.”

Geno turns his head to nuzzle at Sid’s jaw. “Can’t be mean today.”

“Sorry,” he says, and he puts a hand in Geno’s hair, tugs so Geno’s looking at him again. He leans up to kiss him. “Happy birthday,” he says softly when he pulls back, smiling.

Geno frames Sid’s face with his hands, kisses him again. Geno kisses in a way no one else Sid has known does — not like they have all the time in the world, but more like time doesn’t even matter. As if he’s paused the world so he can focus on this. As if this, right now, is all there is.

Kissing Geno is — it’s a lot like learning a new language. There are so many different kinds of kisses, so many different meanings; all of them distinct, all of them amazing.

 _This_ kiss has gone from “I love you so much” to “Hey, wanna fuck?” pretty goddamn fast, and Sid’s absolutely on board, which is why Nika chooses this moment to remind both of them why that’s definitely not going to be happening anytime soon by toddling up to them and tugging at Geno’s pajama pants.

Geno leans back, muttering something under his breath, and he gives Nika an _Are you serious?_ look. Nika smiles back, saying something as he claps his hands together, tugging again, and Geno melts in a second, cooing back at him and leaning down to pick him up. Nika snuggles closer and rests his head on Geno’s chest, smiling at Sid.

Sid still hasn’t gotten used to this, used to the fact that he gets to have this, that this is _his_. He hadn’t even dared to really dream about this, before, and now it’s his reality. A part of him still wonders how long this is going to last, whether Geno will grow sick of him, realize Sid isn’t what he wanted. He tries not to pay too much attention to that part, but it’s hard to ignore when that’s what he’s spent the past few years believing — that he isn’t what Geno wants.

“What you think?” Geno asks, swaying gently enough Sid isn’t even sure he’s aware he’s doing it.

“That I’m really glad I asked Tanger to babysit Nika this evening,” Sid says.

Geno stills, eyebrows shooting up. “Can we send now?”

“I mean...” Sid makes a considering face. “We could try. Don’t think it’ll work, though.”

Geno’s solemn as he says, “Miss hundred percent of shots you don’t take, Sid.”

Sid laughs. “Oh, fuck off.”

Geno gasps dramatically, turning to Nika. “You see? See how he treat me, on my _birthday_?”

Sid shakes his head. “Why do you have to do this every time?”

“Why you have to be mean every time?” He pokes at Nika. “Yes?” he says to him, and when Nika does something that only loosely resembles a nod, he makes a noise of victory. “He agree, I win.”

“Your papa’s full of shit, isn’t he?” Sid coos, nodding and smiling at Nika, and Nika smiles, nodding back as he babbles something. Sid looks at Geno, eyebrow raised. “Looks like he agrees with me, so I win.”

“Think both win,” Geno says, soft and happy.

And, well — Sid doesn’t really know what to do with that except lean forward and kiss Geno, then drop a quick kiss on the top of Nika’s head. “You have a very good point.”

 _This is yours_ , he tells himself, staring between Nika and Geno. They’re having a very earnest conversation, both wearing what amounts to matching pajamas, both with their hair a mess, both smiling widely. _This is forever_.

But Sid’s chest hurts, a little, thinking about how this might not be permanent. About how he might lose this. About all the ways this could go wrong.

“What you think?”

Geno’s question forces him back to reality. “Hmm? Sorry, what was the question?”

Geno rolls his eyes. “Ask — wanna go out for breakfast?”

“Yeah, sure,” Sid says with a smile. He reaches out, tugging Nika out of Geno’s arms. “Go get dressed. I’ll get him ready.”

Geno quickly pecks him on the lips before going to do just that, and Sid squeezes Nika closer to himself, looking down at him as he says quietly, “It’s a stupid thing to worry about, isn’t it?”

He interprets the sounds Nika makes as _Yes, it is; get the fuck over yourself_ , and he nods, taking a deep breath. “This is going to work. We’ll make it work, no matter what.”

Because no matter how bad things get, Sid never gives up.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading. lemme know what you thought :)) @recipient -- i hope this was kinda what you were looking for!!! 
> 
> kudos/comments/etc are, as always, cherished forever and always.


End file.
